Chapter 5
Hannah stared at me across the kitchen table.
Her face had gone completely pale.
"Mom, I didn't sign anything three months ago."
I believed her.
Not because she had never lied to me.
She had.
Not because she hadn't made terrible choices.
She had.
But because I knew the difference between the way my daughter avoided responsibility and the way she reacted when something truly frightened her.
This was fear.
Real fear.
Daniel arrived less than an hour later.
He carried a thick folder.
Hannah sat beside me while he spread the documents across the table.
"This is a copy of a financing submission prepared for the Reyes development project," he explained.
He pointed toward a signature.
Hannah Whitaker.
My daughter leaned forward.
"That's not mine."
Daniel nodded.
"I suspected as much."
I studied the signature.
It looked convincing.
But something was wrong.
Hannah had always written the final letter of her first name with a long, looping stroke.
This signature was stiff.
Carefully copied.
She pointed toward it.
"I don't write my name like that anymore."
Daniel made a note.
"That may be useful. We'll have a document examiner review it."
I looked at him.
"What does the agreement say?"
He explained that the document purported to show Hannah's support for transferring or securing interests in the orchard as part of a future family business arrangement.
It did not give her ownership she didn't possess.
But it had apparently been used to reassure potential investors.
I felt sick.
"Colton represented that she could influence the transfer."
Daniel nodded.
"And possibly that she had already committed to doing so."
Hannah began crying.
"He told me he wanted to build a future with me."
I placed my hand over hers.
Daniel continued.
"The company appears to have sought financing for a development dependent on obtaining the orchard."
I looked at him.
"How much financing?"
He hesitated.
"Twenty-eight million dollars."
Hannah gasped.
I stared at him.
Twenty-eight million dollars.
I couldn't even imagine that amount of money.
Arthur and I had spent years debating whether we could afford a second tractor.
Now someone had apparently used our land to help support a project involving millions.
My stomach tightened.
"What happens if they don't get the orchard?"
Daniel looked serious.
"The financing may fall apart. There could also be serious consequences if misleading representations were made."
I thought about Colton demanding my signature.
The deadline.
His anger.
His sudden fear when he heard Daniel's name.
It all made sense.
He wasn't simply greedy.
He was desperate.
And desperate people could be dangerous.
Daniel looked at Hannah.
"Did Colton ever discuss the project's financing with you?"
She shook her head.
"He said his family business was expanding."
"Did he ask you to persuade your mother to transfer the land?"
She nodded.
"Many times."
I felt a sharp pain in my chest.
Hannah continued.
"He told me Mom was being selfish."
I looked down.
"He said the orchard was too much work for one woman."
She began crying harder.
"He said I needed to help her understand."
I took a shaky breath.
"Did he ever threaten you?"
She hesitated.
Then nodded.
"He said if the deal failed, everyone would blame me."
Daniel leaned forward.
"What exactly did he say?"
Hannah swallowed.
"He told me his father had risked everything. That investors were expecting the land."
She wiped her cheeks.
"He said if I couldn't convince Mom, I would destroy our marriage before it started."
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
The truth hiding behind the expensive wedding.
My daughter hadn't simply married an arrogant man.
She had married someone who made love feel conditional.
I knew she was responsible for helping pressure me.
But I also understood that Colton had been manipulating her.
Both things could be true.
After Daniel left to obtain additional records, Hannah and I walked into the orchard.
The morning sun filtered through the apple trees.
The ground smelled of damp earth.
Hannah stopped beside the old cider barn.
She touched the weathered wooden wall.
"Dad built this."
I nodded.
"With help."
She smiled sadly.
"From you."
I looked at her.
"Mostly from me, if we're being honest."
For the first time since the wedding, she laughed.
A small, broken laugh.
Then her face crumpled.
"I miss him."
I swallowed.
"So do I."
She leaned against the barn.
"I kept thinking about what Dad would say if he saw me at the wedding."
I didn't answer.
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
"He would be so disappointed."
I took a breath.
"Your father loved you."
She nodded.
"But he'd be angry."
"Yes."
The honesty hurt both of us.
I continued.
"He would be angry that you let Colton mistreat me."
She began crying.
"And he would be heartbroken that you believed love required you to betray yourself."
Hannah covered her face.
I stepped closer.
"Sweetheart, you're allowed to love someone and still say no."
She looked at me.
"You're allowed to ask questions. You're allowed to leave a room when someone frightens you."
Her lips trembled.
"And you're allowed to admit you were wrong."
She whispered, "I'm sorry, Mom."
I nodded.
"I know."
But I didn't tell her everything was forgiven.
Not yet.
Trust needed time.
We continued walking.
Near the north orchard, Hannah stopped beneath an old Honeycrisp tree.
"This is where Dad taught me to graft branches."
I smiled.
"He was so patient with you."
She touched the bark.
"I used to think I'd come back here someday."
I looked at her.
"You still can."
She shook her head.
"After everything?"
I took her hand.
"Hannah, the orchard is not a prize you win by being perfect."
Her eyes filled.
"It's our family's history."
She hugged me.
I held her.
And for the first time since the wedding, I felt a small piece of my daughter returning.
Then my phone rang.
The caller ID showed the orchard office.
I answered.
"Hello?"
It was Miguel Alvarez, our longtime farm manager.
His voice sounded worried.
"Diane, we've got a problem."
My stomach tightened.
"What happened?"
"Two men are here."
"Where?"
"At the west gate."
I frowned.
"What do they want?"
"They say they're surveying for the Reyes development company."
My blood ran cold.
I looked at Hannah.
Her expression changed.
Miguel continued.
"They're claiming they have permission to enter the property."
I took a breath.
"They do not."
He hesitated.
"Diane, they have paperwork."
I closed my eyes.
"What kind?"
"A document with your signature."
My heart stopped.
Hannah grabbed my arm.
I whispered, "That's impossible."
Miguel's voice grew quieter.
"Ma'am, there's something else."
"What?"
"The document is dated three days before Arthur died."
I nearly dropped the phone.
May you like
Because my husband had been buried for almost two years.
And somehow, someone was now using a document supposedly signed by me during the final days of his life.
